


you're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be

by letsperaltiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: 101 fluffy prompts, Baby Peraltiago, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23742043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsperaltiago/pseuds/letsperaltiago
Summary: A collection of oneshots/shorter drabbles based on the '101 fluffy prompts' list!Chapter 5: Amy gets jealous when a stranger suddenly has their eyes on Jake
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 28
Kudos: 174





	1. #98: a calm surrender to the rush of day

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys!
> 
> Just thought I'd start this collection based on this super cute list of fluffy prompts I found (linked down below), cuz who doesn't love fluff? I predict a lot of baby Peraltiago, but pre-dating, new relationship, established relationship and marrried fluff as well - anything you want really.  
> Some will be regular oneshots meanwhile others with be smaller drabbles (under 1k words). Lemme me know what you think! 
> 
> This chapter is #98 on the prompt list: "I think we should have another"
> 
> xx Em
> 
> // 101 Fluffy prompts list: https://sentence-fragments.tumblr.com/post/128655641230/101-fluffy-prompts

Amy was fast asleep in their bedroom when the sudden sound of the front door lock clicking and shifting followed by a half-hearted slam jolted her awake. For a very brief second, with her heart galloping in her chest as a result of the shock, Amy was utterly disoriented and the uneasy feeling was definitely not peculiar when you happened to live in a city that was ranked way too high on the _Top 10 Most Dangerous Cities in America_ – a club she did not particularly enjoy being a part of. Although, as fast as it had encased her body to begin with, the shock quickly wore off the second she heard shifting and rumbling paired with a “ _shit”_ coming from what she figured out must’ve been the living room.

_Jake_ , she realized, suddenly remembering why he wasn’t currently beside her in bed but rather out with some friends from the academy – or, at least, _was_.

In an attempt to put the final puzzle pieces in place she leaned over to grab her phone wondering how long he’d out and about for. The time revealed itself across her lock screen picture of Jake, fast asleep on their couch a few days after their son’s arrival with said son resting beneath his hands and on his chest. 3:11 AM – no wonder why she could barely keep her eyes open. There was a second of wondering if she should just turn over, go back to sleep and let Jake come join her whenever he was ready, but something else on the screen caught her eye before she could ultimately decide on doing so: 3 texts from Rosa with the last being from around 30 minutes prior.

**Rosa Diaz – 12:39 PM  
**Dude, Jake is horrible. He won’t shut up about you and the baby and for some reason the other guys from the academy seem to be eating it up. I hate it. What have you done to him?

**Rosa Diaz – 1:56 AM  
**Nvm. I take it back. He just paid a second round of beers to celebrate, and I quote, “His miracle baby”. Please get pregnant more. Means more free booze.

**Rosa Diaz – 2:47 AM  
**Def spoke too soon. He just threw up at my feet. We’re waiting outside the bar for his cab. I’m sending him home to you. Texts me when he gets there. Also: good luck lol. He’s stupid drunk.

Almost as if Jake had read the text as well, as to emphasize its point, Amy could hear him stumble into the bathroom across the hall to, what she chose to believe, grab his toothbrush but instead knocking over the glass holding it generating a loud commotion which tore throughout the entire apartment.

Amy’s head immediately as per instinct shot in the direction of her 3-month old’s crib, which stood against the wall on her side just a few feet away. Apart from the limited amount of Catholic traditions she’d grown up with living with her parents she wasn’t particularly religious, but right then and there she internally prayed that her son, who she’d spent an hour getting back to sleep just 3 hours ago, wasn’t woken up by her father’s drunken circus. She held her breath as a few, way too long seconds went by: no cry. Amy’s chest dropped in relief.

Moments like these were tiny victories that she as a brand new first-time mom held onto for dear life. In general, though she had nothing to compare to, her little boy wasn’t a particularly difficult baby but the past few days had been a bit rough on the little family: rough to the point where Amy had to _push_ Jake out the door earlier that evening because he didn’t want to leave her behind with a fussy baby. But, more than ever before, Amy was confident, telling him it would be a waste for him to stay home and miss out on some fun; he should go out and she’d be fine. He’d ended up going. Although it was borderline against his will with half-worried eyes that Jake had crossed the threshold to exit their apartment, while repeating over and over again that she could and _should_ call him if things turned out to be too much: he’d grab the first cab he saw back home.

Amy loved this considerate and worried side of Jake but it also turned out to be quiet unnecessary that night. Besides the hour from hell of fussiness at midnight, the evening alone with her son had gone by pretty smoothly – she’d actually made quite an enjoyable experience out of it. First of all, right after he’d had left, Amy ate the dinner Jake had prepared for her in advance on the couch with Flynn lying next to her in his little nest, talking and admiring his small sounds and smiles. God, she loved him so much and there was no TV-show or movie in the world that could beat the incredible sight of her son clumsily waving around his tiny legs and arms in his green pajama-onesie.

Then, after bathing and changing him, she’d fed him to make sure he was completely ready for bed and by 8 PM she was silently smiling down at, admiring, her very own tiny sleeping human as he dozed off in his crib. Losing track of time was incredibly easy these days, both from the lack of sleep but also the huge amount of love for said little human, but after making sure (for the 32nd time) that Flynn was well asleep Amy had, trusty baby monitor in hand, retreated to the living room. There, with a tiny glass of white wine in hand, she’d managed to finish today’s _The Times’_ crossword puzzle - something Flynn had interrupted a couple of times that day – before she’d felt an inevitable wave of tiredness creep up on her. Once ready, having gone through her own routine plus checking up on the, to her pride and joy, still sleeping baby, Amy went to bed where she’d slept peacefully until her son had claimed her attention a few hours later. So even though Jake was her favorite person to hang out with, her evening had been great and, all in all, she wouldn’t mind doing it again 

Now here she was once again awake although this time it was not her baby causing the distraction from sleeping but rather her apparently _very_ drunk husband stumbling around the bathroom. The fact that he hadn’t been loud _enough_ to wake up their son had probably (for sure) helped, but also, Amy couldn’t be mad at Jake when she’d been the one to basically force him to go out and have fun. So, after giving up on falling back asleep figuring it’d be hopeless with Jake stumbling around the apartment, she instead took matters into her own hands and made her way to the bathroom. Here, to her amusement, the sight of her rather nicely dressed husband, unruly curls spilling onto his forehead, was barely able to stay awake and standing upright while brushing his teeth.

“Hey there,” she leaned her hip against the door frame before crossing her arms in front of her chest adding to it a teasing smile.

“Oh god!” from the way he almost choked on his tooth brush, Jake was obviously startled by her sudden appearance but quickly avoided choking with a sad attempt at smooth recovery by clumsily spitting the toothpaste into the sink getting it all over his lips in the process. “I’m _szo szo szorry,”_ the words tumbled from his mouth much like she imagined he’d tripped and fallen over various furniture and items on his way into the apartment just a few moments ago. “Dridn’t mean tro wake you.”

“Well…” she shrugged nonchalantly not really minding mostly because drunk Jake was a hilarious mess she’d missed during their pregnancy, but also partly because she knew he’d be paying the painful price in the morning. “You did.”

Immediately, as if he was a puppy whose tail had just accidentally been stepped on, Jake’s previously insouciant demeanor switched into a intoxicated version of his famous worried frown. Though the second she could tell panic was forming in his drunkenly fatigued eyes, she was quick to step in and avoid guilting him.

“But it’s okay,” her tired but nonetheless somehow always warm eyes worked their best to comfort him, hip nudging her off the doorframe and into a short journey to where her husband had shifted into a leaning position with his back against the sink, toothbrush desperately hanging from the left side of his mouth. His eyes, though dazed and barely able to stay open, followed her every move towards him closely but he was still startled when she’d come close enough for him to feel her breath on him and had sassily snagged the dangling toothbrush out of his mouth (careful to not hurt him in the process, of course). 

“As long as you don’t wake up your son,” she raised an eyebrow daringly only to be met by a shocked expression that told her he still wasn’t entirely over that bold toothbrush-move of hers, and was just _barely_ managing to listen to what she was saying solely because of the mention of Flynn. He knew that the baby was an angel (duh, he was _his and Amy’s_ creation) yet Jake was also very much in touch with reality which was that said son also hadn’t managed to sleep through the night yet (which according to his go-to parenting book _Cry Hard_ was normal). Therefor even drunk Jake also knew that every second his son was asleep was to be handled as carefully as you would a bomb, and the mention of him possibly waking him up was enough to sober him up – or at the very least have him feel like it for a second.

“Luckily,” Amy proceeded, placing her hands on his chest before sliding them up to rest on his shoulders, “you didn’t.”

Paired with a heavy sigh, as if he’d been holding his breath in suspense, she instantly felt his shoulders drop in relief. Needless to say that Amy loved the way her husband cared greatly about his new father-role. Sometimes to the point where Jake, very unnecessarily, would push himself down an endless rabbit hole of doubt, where he, Amy had come to find out relatively early on, could only be calmed down by her ordering him to go lie down and so she could place tiny Flynn on his (incredible) father’s chest. Only then, with his son looking up at him with curious brown eyes or even just being fast asleep, Jake could feel his heart rate slow down significantly and the anxiety fade. His son was here on his chest, tiny heartbeat against his big one and they were both _okay_. It was love and that was all that mattered.

So yes, Jake’s father-role was very important to both him and her, but for tonight, Amy quickly decided, Jake was allowed to be just drunk-Jake. She had no problem taking full responsibility for Flynn-duty that night, and, even though neither of them kept scores or cared about the unspoken tally, she also knew Jake would make it up to her another night.

“So Flynni iz ztill azleep?” Jake whispered loudly not actually managing to control his voice as intended. His sluggish, wondering eyes reminded Amy of the look on her milk-drunk 3-month old’s face right after a feeding which made it even more obvious that Flynn Peralta was very much her father’s son and would grow up to be an exact copy. 

“Yes, _Flynni_ ,” she giggled emphasizing the nickname her husband had come up with, “is still very much asleep. But he won’t be for much longer if you don’t quiet down,” her hands slid up Jake’s neck to cradle his jaw, his tooth brush still in her hand.

“Zorry,” he smiled sheepishly actually managing to whisper this time. “You’re ze bestest mom in ze attire world, Amy Zantriago.”

“Hm,” she squinted her eyes jokingly, “maybe I should just put back that tooth brush because now you’re just talking crazy.”

“Nooo,” the whine that escaped her husband was childish as he simultaneously pulled her in for a clumsy, giggly kiss that’d cover her mouth in his toothpaste remains – unsurprisingly, drunk-Jake was not a very precise tooth brusher and had a toddler’s amount of basic skills. “Ze only crayzay here is me. Crayazay ‘bout my WIFE!” unable to control himself he half-yelled out the last word causing Amy to make a quick decision and shove the toothbrush back into his mouth. This, besides yet another surprised and confused expression greeting her, seemed to work and would hopefully keep him quiet till he made it to bed where he could pass out.

“Hush, Peralta,” and he immediately did. He knew his always _very_ convincing wife only had good intentions (which making sure their son stayed asleep ultimately was) and whilst she picked up where he’d left of to finish brushing his teeth for him he, like the inner toddler the alcohol ignited in him, stayed put against the sink.

A few minutes later, still managing to stay somewhat silent (apart from constantly trying to whisper sweet nothings and stupidities into her ear meanwhile she struggled to brush his teeth and wash his face) Amy lead Jake to their bedroom which, for once, was for unsexy reasonz (with a z, yes). Immediately as soon as it was within what his drunk brain considered a safe distance, Jake’s body caved and dropped to the soft welcoming surface of their bed. Amy quickly figured that it was probably for the best and she should take advantage of Jake finally staying still, meaning she carefully started undressing him, and it had seemed that he was passed out right up until she popped the third button of his flannel and his eyes shot open along with a sneaky smirk.

“Amez, Iz tonight zhe night that we become PILFs?”

Amy frowned as she reached the last button and then pushed the flannel off of his torso. “PILFs?” She wordlessly prompted him to sit up as to allow her to remove the flannel entirely only to be followed by his undershirt being lifted off via his head – something she’d done a million times before but most cases being for _other_ reasons.

“ _Parentz I’d Like To Frick_ ,” he smiled in appreciation at his own genius invention before stealing a kiss when Amy happened to be close enough to reach by simply leaning in a bit. It did earn him a small giggle like he wished but then also a light shove back.

“Stop that and help me instead, would you?” She was far from mad at him which he could tell from the way she couldn’t keep an _entirely_ straight face but on the other side of things Amy clearly wasn’t having the easiest time undressing her full grown husband either. Suddenly the task that was changing Flynn 7 times a day was put into a quite interesting perspective: a perspective she didn’t necessarily need.

And so, feeling that his wife was doing all the hard work, he helped. It might’ve taken him 5 minutes to pop open and zip down his jeans, but he succeeded and it was with way too much pride that he kicked his jeans off in a madman-ninja manner which resulted in them flying across the room to touchdown by the door. Normally Amy would demand he put them in the laundry bin but for once she couldn’t care less. The pants being off itself was a great victory.

“Nicely done, babe,” she joked trying to ignore the fact that 3 simple tasks had taken them almost 40 minutes by now, prompting her to playfully throw his night shirt in way so it landed on his head. “Now put that on and you’re good to pass out for the night.”

She walked back over to her side of the bed, throwing in a glance at Flynn in his crib to make sure he was still well and asleep, before crawling back under the covers and pushing the part on Jake’s side aside to invite him in.

It was a matter of seconds before he dropped into place but instead of passing out immediately as Amy had expected him to, her husband shuffled across the bed’s invisible center line wordlessly asking for snuggles that Amy, of course, couldn’t decline. She loved that Jake went out and had some fun by himself, although, at the end of the day, nothing would ever beat having him home with her – even if it meant dealing with an all at once incapable and horny man child.

So, by all means, she lifted her arm to welcome him to make himself at home under it, felt his head moving to on top of her chest, before she put it back down in a soft grip around his shoulders. His free arm would then soon enough wrap around her middle earning him a soft peck to the forehead.

“I love you, Amz,” he mumbled tiredly into her shirt.

“I love you too, Jake,” she smiled leaning her cheek against where she’d just planted the kiss.

“And I love our baby. Zo much. I mizzed him all ze night,” he mumbled on the verge of falling asleep.

And while she always did expect it these days, right then and there when she very honestly in the moment _least_ did expect it, a loud cry as if scripted, tore through the darkness of their bedroom. A small sigh escaped her body although she was couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the situation.

“… Sounds like he missed you too, babe.”

“Oh no,” Jake whined basically imitating Flynn to a point where it was scary as Amy scooted out from his snuggle and the newfound warmth of their bed. “I woke him up. I’m zo zo sorry.”

In the meantime Amy had made her way to the crib.

“You didn’t wake him up, honey,” she made sure to reassure Jake of the fact before picking up the tiny crying figure before promptly looking at the time on her night stand, where her suspicion was immediately proved to be right. “It’s 4 AM: he’s just hungry.”

Not many things in this world were sure or certain, but if there was one thing that was then it was definitely Amy’s knowledge when it came to her son’s schedule. Yes, Jake got up with Flynn just as frequently as she did, but contrary to her, Jake didn’t take note of the time and just did what his son demanded without interest in cracking the code to their baby’s life-pattern: as long as he got to care for him and make him happy again, the logistics were somewhat irrelevant to Jake.

“You sure?” he complained nervously questioning his wife as she sat back down in bed with Flynn cradled to her chest.

“Yes, completely.”

With her always being right and all, Jake settled for accepting his wife’s statement quieting down to take in the sight of their son fumbling to find where his mother had lifted up her shirt in order to feed him. Seconds later, like the peace that followed after a huge sky-cracking thunderstorm, silence settled upon the family of three letting the two adult of said family know that Flynn had once again worked out how to still his hunger. Apart from the very faint sounds of suckling, the occasional little pop followed by a wail when he’d lose his mouthful and complain until Amy managed to help him back on track, idyllic silence of the night wrapped up the apartment as if Jake had never interrupted it just an hour prior.

It was in moments like these where Jake became untouchable, completely disregarding any physical or mental state he might be in, and simply gave in to soaking in the faultless felicity parenthood provided him with. He’d never been anything but happy with Amy but this life he’d been living for 3 months now was even better and beyond any imaginable expectations he’d had. Flynn, though being the one who was completely dependent on his father’s care, had given Jake life a renewed meaning he hadn’t known or felt close to before. A meaning he’d originally been so afraid of even _considering_ before he met Amy but had come to realize he wanted with her and _only_ her.

He wanted 4 AM cries. He wanted the sight of Amy, depending on what her energy level was, either dozing off to or actively admiring their son latching onto her swelled chest as he suckled on it. He wanted the rush of pride every time Flynn made a new sound even if it was simply bringing into existence a new pitch when he squealed or whimpered. Jake wanted all and everything, big and small, as long as it was with them.

So of course, as soon as Flynn was placed stomach down on Amy’s chest after being done eating and burped, earning himself a sweet praise when he succeeded, Jake was back to snuggling into his wife’s side. There was no minding sharing her chest with the tiny human as it provided Jake with the perfect combination of cuddling with his wife and the incredible sight of their stupefying son slipping back into a peaceful state of sleepy satisfaction.

“He’s sro prerfect, Amy.”

“I know, babe,” with a hand safely cradling and stroking the back of Flynn’s decently hairy head she mumbled her reply obviously in the early stages of dozing off herself. The other hand, this arm having returned to its spot around Jake, was resting against her husband’s back stroking it in a synchronized motion. 

“Like, he’z like getting ze one exact toy you wanted ze mostest in your Happy Meal as a child.” 

She would laugh out loud at his comparison, finding it incredibly endearing, but she was by then too exhausted and only managed to form a tired smile – also the laughing would cause her chest and then automatically Flynn to quiver which she was not about to dare.

“He really is,” she mumbled.

“I think we shrould have anozer.”

It was easy to tell that the comment was partly genuine and sweet but also partly… intoxicated. Though Amy didn’t doubt the fact that Jake wouldn’t mind more children, she also didn’t doubt the fact that he definitely wouldn’t remember this conversation when he woke up some hours later with a hammering headache and zombie-like state of mind.

“I think I have enough on my hands with you two.”

Yes, she did see them having at least two kids but one newborn was definitely more than enough at the moment, plus they had plenty of time to consider further additions to the family once Flynn would be older and Jake not completely wasted. Although it was nice to hear some truth about his inner thoughts spill from her drunk husband, there was no doubt in her mind that there was no need to hurry. They would get there eventually and for now they were already so very happy.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of Jake’s lips planting a soft, half-sloppy kiss to, first, their son’s head, then, then her neck. Then small movements beneath her hand on Flynn was next, quickly peaking her curiosity and winning over her exhaustion then forcing herself to open her eyes. Immediately feeling glad she did so because she was met by the most heartwarming sight of Jake carefully caressing Flynn’s tiny feet.

“We’re gunna make zo many perfect bebiez, Amy Trivago. Zo many. Like zis one.”

“I’m sure of it, babe,” she gave into one last tired chuckle hoping agreeing would give him the peace he needed to fall asleep. And besides the fact his fingers continuously toyed with the tiny feet, Jake seemed fast asleep a few moments later leaving Amy to soak in the moment, fighting to stay awake just a few more minutes to enjoy how incredibly lucky she was.

There was indeed nothing better than feeling her two favorite boys’ heartbeats against her skin as she herself dove into a deep sleep.


	2. #101: i love you and i like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on stars-my-darling's post on tumblr: "When Mac starts talking he will sometimes just randomly tell Amy that he loves her, usually at the end of an unrelated sentence. They later realise that he learnt to do this because Jake is always randomly telling Amy that he loves her and Mac is copying him." 
> 
> Also includes prompt #101 from the 101 fluffy prompts-list: "…They just grow up so fast."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title aka. shoutout to Parks and Rec :') Need to watch that reunion ASAP!

Amy Santiago has so far had a lifetime’s worth of great jobs, which, she knows, isn’t _that_ hard when you love work and everything it implies. Everything from assisting her middle school’s librarian to that brief job at a small uptown museum her degree got her to being a respected sergeant in the NYPD. She’s loved every single job but, she’s now come to realise, nothing vill ever beat her most recent employment: M _otherhood_. With a capital M, yes. 

Mac throws her and Jake’s worlds over like the tiny miracle of a storm he is and they’ve never looked back since. It’s brand new, it’s exciting, it’s scary, and though they’re not exactly religious, he’s the answer to their prayers. Parenthood turns out to be nothing like what they’d expected, like nothing they’d ever tried before and looking past some of the rough days, which are inevitable, it’s actually even better. They get to shape and watch a human grow; a human of which they’re both the genesis and they couldn’t be any more proud - both of each other but also their son. 

Everything Mac does and achieves is a _moment to remember,_ and they take nothing for granted: every new sound, even simple gurgles, every new movement, even the flick of a tiny finger? They beam, look at each other with wide, joyous eyes and celebrate their newborn addition to their little family. They hold on to everything they can, while they can although, they swear, every other day they’ll be lying in bed with him while he sleeps or watch him begin to explore their apartment on his own and they’ll take turns breaking the comfortable silence with what they’re both thinking:

_“They just grow up so fast.”_

Even if he’s merely grown a tenth of an inch since the last time they brought it up. 

This fact aside, before they know it, their before so very tiny and helpless son can sit without assistance, sooner than later starts crawling and before they seem to have the time to catch up with the ladder he suddenly knows how to say “mama” and “dada” - and the day Mac takes his first steps, Amy filming on her phone while Jake is squatting to entice his son? Both parents guiltlessly shed a tiny tear rewatching the video that night after their little one, who suddenly seems so big, is put to bed. 

With the walking comes the talking. Mac, like his dad, is an entertainer and seizes every chance he gets to chat with his parents, and anyone else who’ll listen for that matter, and hopefully make them laugh. Amy quickly sees through the fact that her son’s mannerism is _definitely_ inspired by her husband’s, and Amy’s heart swells at every glimt of it: everything from Mac’s tiny ‘big dramatic movements’ to him attempting to crack small jokes (that sometimes are actually super funny but also mostly make people laugh because his delivery is beyond precious). Despite the fact that his personality is absolutely a solid blend of both parents, Jake’s genes definitely conquer everything else, and Amy doesn’t mind one bit. Although she _could_ do without the short, Peralta-inspired attention span, which can be both very cute but also slightly maddening when you’ve told your barely 3-year old toddler _6 times_ to finish their meal meanwhile he’s to preoccupied by his father cleaning up the water said toddler spilled just seconds ago.  


All in all, Mac is a copy of Jake, and in more ways that one Amy is grateful. Especially when the little boy starts getting a grasp of the word ‘love’ and what it actually means though his parents have showered him with it since before he was born. Jake and Amy will tell Mac ‘I love you’ on the daily and, besides this, his parents themselves aren’t exactly shy of telling each other, especially Jake who often tends to do it out of nowhere or any kind of context which the boy must’ve picked up on at some point.

It starts off quite naturally: the first time he says it. 

One night after getting him washed down and put into his favorite firetruck-print pyjamas (the parents couldn’t deny him it even though they were far from thrilled), Amy’s sitting with Mac in his new so-called ‘big boy-bed’. Feeling her son’s curly-haired head nestled into her chest, one hand grabbing onto the fabric of her shirt while the other holds onto his best buddy _Leo the Lion,_ Amy reads out loud from one of the many books she’s managed to accumulate for her son. Obviously worn out from the day Mac, as being almost 3 is _very exhausting_ , stays silent and listens carefully to the sound of his mother’s voice, dutifully paying attention to the book’s colourful drawings and even sometimes pointing at them whenever Amy reaches a part of the story that’s been illustrated. 

“Then the little puppy ran through the big big field and the big big forest to get back home-“

“Shee, Mommy,” Mac interrupts her with a lisp caused by the pacifier hanging from one corner of his mouth and points to the drawing of the running dog with his index finger. “Doggy runth!” 

“Yeah, I see, baby,” she smiles before pecking the top of his head. Normally she’d ask him to remove his pacifier when he speaks. Her and Jake slowly trying to make the object something Mac knows he can use to relax rather than constantly needs, but when it’s this late and right before bedtime Amy can’t be bothered to reprimand him. For now she’s just proud of her tiny, smart guy. “Where is he running?” She pulls back to look at him, encouraging him to explain further. 

“He’sh going home!” he smiles proudly to a point where his pacifier almost falls out, just barely clinging on for dear life. 

“That’s right. He’s running home to his family - good job,” she chuckles sending him one last smile before skimming her wristwatch quickly realising bedtime is just minutes away. It’s not that they’re following a strict schedule that depends on every single minute and second of the day: something she’s actually glad Jake’s and his more laid-back lifestyle has transferred to their parenting-style. Although Mac, his parents have come to find out, will reach a point during the evening where it’ll be _too late_ and he becomes overtired and impossible. Therefor 8 PM is the ultimate limit (on weekdays, that is) and Amy sees it quickly approaching so she quickly finishes up their story and shuts the book closed. 

“That’s it for today, Mr. Mac. Time to visit dreamland,” simply not able to resist the feel and smell of her son’s newly washed curls, she places another kiss to the top of his head before climbing out of the small bed and hears him reply with a yawn which tells her that she’s probably timed bedtime perfectly. To the great delight of the now also tired mother (a high rank full-time job and a toddler will do that to you) she’s once more proved right when Mac gets under the covers without a trace of fight. 

“Roshie?” he looks up at his mother with worried eyes as he hugs Leo the Lion a bit tighter. Those stupid beautiful brown eyes he’s inherited from Jake. 

“Oh,” Amy kneels down to the bed’s side and starts running her hand all over the duvet, mattress and bed-frame. “Where’s Rosie, bud?” 

Rosie aka. the pink unicorn he’d gotten from auntie Roro back when he was still a tiny baby (though he’d always be Amy’s tiny baby) was missing and they both knew very well that there would be no sleeping without it. Suddenly her hand comes across a bump, to her relief revealing the stuffed animal once she lifts up the duvet. 

“Yay, mommy!” her son smiles as if she’s cracked the mystery of the century and Amy can’t help but feel just a bit proud - anything she does that makes her boy happy will do that to her. 

“There you go,” she smiles and places the unicorn in his arms right next to Leo the Lion. “All good, Mr. Mac?”

He nods profoundly, eyes suddenly clearly tired and droopy, which earns him a warm smile from his mother before she leans in and kisses his forehead tenderly, all at once running her hand fingers his curls as to get her one last fix for the day. Incredible how your child can become somehow _addicting_. 

“Sleep well. I love you,” she pulls back to take him in, the declaration of love hanging in the air for a few seconds before, taking Amy by surprise, her son answers her. 

“I wuv you.”

She knows ‘love’ is an abstract feeling that a toddler can’t really comprehend and isolate as an emotion, which is probably also why Mac’s never said it back before, and although she’s told him a million times before and has never awaited or needed an answer, him saying it back definitely throws her off in the most magical, proud, emotional way in a long time. She’s constantly proud of the little things he does on the daily, slowly becoming a tiny actual human with opinions and a personality, but this is a whole new level. 

“Thank you for saying that,” she can feel tears forming in her eyes and throat, but doesn’t want to confuse the small child who’s just begun to understand ‘love’ _,_ and therefor doesn’t _also_ need to be explained that crying can also be a sign of happiness. That is an oxymoron that will surely just confuse him when, currently, crying is Mac’s way of expressing and understanding sadness and anger. 

“That was very sweet of you and I love you so so much too, baby,” she manages to say it one last time, without breaking, before getting up to turn on his tiny night light and leave. “Me and daddy will be just down the hall watching TV, okay?”

A slight movement from beneath the duvet lets her know he’s heard her before she allows herself to half-close the door and walk back to where Jake is cleaning up after dinner. There she is finally able to let out a few soft cries as she lets her husband in on the small, incredible moment she’s just had with their son. Of course, it instantly makes Jake feel like crying with joy too. Their baby is surely the best. 

From there on it’s just one big mess of declarations, at the most random moments and Amy is very amused but also even more enamoured. 

  


One night Jake is away on a stakeout which leaves Amy is home alone with Mac, and to the toddlers immense joy this means he’s allowed to sleep with his mom in her and dad’s enormous bed. Jake has told him to keep mommy safe while he’s gone and of course takes this task very seriously. It’s 3 AM, they’re both fast asleep when suddenly Amy is awoken by what seems to be quite some new weight on top of her chest. 

“Mommy,” promptly breaks the silence slowly bringing Amy back to consciousness. 

It takes her a second to collect herself but she instinctually reaches out to figure out exactly where her son is in the dark. It’s quickly clear that he’s stretched out stomach down across her chest. “Yes, baby?” she mumbles tiredly eyes still closed hoping that her son is just being restless and will go back to sleep. 

“I need pee.”

“Oh.”

This, with a power that almost no other request from her son holds, immediately dawns upon and takes over her body pushing her to sit up. Mac is pretty much fully potty trained but only day-wise. During the night he still uses a diaper, and they’ve only just recently started easing him into the night-potty by telling him it’s an option. The boy showing initiative himself is an absolutely _great_ start and even more importantly an opportunity she won’t let slip by. 

“You wanna go use the potty?” she looks at him to make sure and he immediately nods. “Okay, lets go then.” 

And so they scurry out of bed and make their way across the hall to the bathroom, hand in hand in the darkness, where once the light is turned on Mac’s potty awaits him. 

With a bit of help from mommy, he pulls down his pyjamas pants and diaper before getting settled on the potty. There’s no hiding the fact that they’re both very tired, especially Mac whose head hangs a bit, almost asleep while giving in to his body’s need for relief while Amy sits dutifully on the floor besides him. 

“Good job telling me, Mac,” she praises, smiling tiredly but the little boy is too tired to even react. 

They stay like this for a while, in silence, Amy not wanting to interrupt a probably concentrated Mac, when suddenly he, to her surprise, is the one to break the silence.

“I’m peeing and I love you, mommy,” he mumbles tiredly almost fully asleep right there on the potty, messy curls hanging in whatever which way gravity will allow.

Then, as if she’d never been tired, asleep, woken up and feeling exhausted, Amy’s body rises to a much higher level of awareness. Warmth, one that completely makes her forget about the bathroom floor’s cold tiles, spreads throughout her entire being and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was currently trying to pee, Amy would’ve pulled him into the tightest hug right there. But she doesn’t, of course, and instead settles for a gleaming smile. 

“Mommy loves you too, honey,” He’s her very own bedhead, she thinks to herself lovingly running a hand through his hair. “And I’m so proud of you for waking me up to go potty.” 

It’s very faint, too tired to put much effort into it but there’s definitely a small smile growing on her son’s face, When he falls asleep on top of her chest a bit later after he’s done and has been put into a clean diaper, just to be safe, the smile is still there, Amy can tell even in the dark. 

  


Another declaration, it’s safe to say, happens when Amy _leasts_ expects it. They’re running on ‘tantrum from hell: hour who-even-knows-anymore’, this time triggered by the banal fact that, no, Mac wasn’t allowed to play with the big knife Jake had been using to cut vegetables for their dinner. 

Everyone has their bad days, the parents are well aware, but this one of Mac’s was particularly bad. All day, from the minute he woke up and went straight to the living room instead of joining his parents in their bad, he’d been extra fussy thereby not feeling content with whichever way his parents tried to fix his mood. They’d been understandable and gone easy on him all day, hopelessly trying to please him while also not just giving in to his unreasonable demands. It appeared that this was very a fine line to walk, and so far it sure hadn’t offered them the intended results. Both parents were exhausted and Mac screaming was far, so very far, from their ideal way of spending the evening in. 

Both Jake and Amy have tried experimented with different tactics, some that are known to work. Picking him up to soothe him; ask him if he’s hurting somewhere; offering him to choose one of his daily snacks like a glass of milk, yoghurt or a fruit; suggesting that they play a game…But the little boy wants _nothing._ Nothing _but_ that huge, sharp kitchen knife.

“Look, you can cry all you want, but daddy is not going to give you the knife. It’s dangerous, Mac,” Amy’s voice is definitely stern but nonetheless still calm well aware of the fact that screaming as well won’t get her anywhere. Besides that she also considers herself a structured, punctual but nonetheless also a _cool mom:_ nevertheless enough is enough. She’s _really_ had it by now, hands resting defensively on her hipsas she feels a head ache creeping up on her meanwhile her 3 year old, who’s now lying face down on the kitchen floor, lets out yet another scream. 

“Listen to mom, bud,” Jake intervenes the best he can without interrupting his wife’s operation. “She’s _super_ right, you know? The knife is very very sharp and in your small hands it can easily slip and hurt you. We don’t want that.” 

Another scream is how he’s thanked for the explanation and Jake, even though he loves his son unconditionally, has to roll his eyes and sigh. Logic is not relevant when you’re working with a toddler, he has learned but nonetheless gives it a try every time they’re back in the arena - only to be disappointed. 

They try not to be the kind of parents that scold or punish their kid unless it’s necessary and they but alas this is not one of them. Amy has had it and shares a look of confirmation with her husband before proceeding - she needs him to back her up on this. 

“Okay, McClane Santiago-Peralta,” Amy says strictly. Full name? This is the point of no return, Jake knows.

“If you’re going to continue to behave like this then that’s up to you, but that also means it’s time for time-out, because daddy and I don’t know how to help you, when you keep screaming like that.”  


God, she hates this side of parenthood and this shade of herself, though she knows it necessary. 

“Knife!” Mac cries out rolling onto his back and hitting the floor with the palms of his tiny hands in protest of now both the knife and the time-out.

“I’m not going to keep discussing this with you,” she makes up her mind, picks up her son which results in him screaming/crying even louder while also putting up a fight by wiggling his entire body in his mother’s hold. “If you’re not going to go by yourself, like the big boy I know you usually are, then I’ll have to carry you there.”

And so Amy, knowing that the most important thing right now is that she sticks to her pledges, starts walking out of the kitchen and down the hall towards her son’s room. The wiggling continues, the crying doesn’t come to quit and he even adds kicking into the air as she carries him to the mess of it all. He really doesn’t want to go, even less have his mommy take him there since it’ll mean that he’s _really_ pushed her to the limit. 

Then suddenly the next wail he lets out suddenly sends the situation down a completely different path. 

“I just want the knife and I- I wuv you, mommy!” her son screams loudly through his cry, face all red and scrunched up as if he was cursing her which by nature results in Amy freezing on the spot, left to wonder _what the hell_ had prompted _that_ outburst. 

That one was new, she thinks, and how the hell do you handle this exact situation right? On one hand his previous acts, and the fact that he’s still hysterical, means that he deserves to be sent to his room; on the other hand he just screamed, bloody murder, that he loves her… Parenthood was indeed _so_ confusing sometimes. 

A sigh leaves her body.

“I love you too, Mac,” she figures he deserves, and _always_ will deserve, no matter how angry she might be, to hear it back - no matter how frustrating and crazy the situation might be. 

“And daddy does too, but it’s really hard for us to help you when you scream and cry like that, baby,” she gives explaining the consequences of his tantrum one last shot, and, to her surprise, the boy actually stills in her arms and buries his face into her chest. The cries die out before transitioning to small sniffles and alas Amy sees the opportunity to, perhaps, talk some sense into her son. 

“We’d much rather have you use your words, tell mommy and daddy what’s _actually_ wrong, rather than having you scream and cry like this. Do you understand?”

There’s silence but Amy can feel Mac’s tiny head slide up and down in nod against his chest, and relief, although it might still just be a false sense of safety, floods her entire body. 

“So, what is actually wrong? Why are you sad?” 

“I-“ Mac sniffles trying to mould his thoughts. “I just wanted help daddy make food.”

Of course, she thinks internally rolling her eyes. 

“I see,” she nods. “And you _can_ help daddy cook, but next time you’ll have to say it like that. Use your words, okay?”

He nods again before lovingly grasping onto a strand of his mother’s hair. 

“Good,” she pecks the top of his head. “Now,” she cranes her neck to look down at her son’s face where it’s half buried into her tear-stained shirt. “Do you want to be in your room by yourself for a bit to calm down, or do you want to come help me and daddy clean the kitchen and set the table?” 

“I wan’ help,” he mumbles obviously lacking energy after spending it all throwing the tantrum, but if he wants to be with them and redeem himself then Amy won’t be the one to stop him. It took a while, but Amy always tries to remember that he’s still very little meaning that it’s inevitable that some social skills aren’t fully developed. So whenever he can come to his senses, with his parents guidance or not, Amy will of course be the first one to endorse it. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she walks back towards the kitchen with Mac resting silently in her arms.

  


A third memory that pops into Amy’s mind upon trying to remember the many random moment’s where her son has shared his love for her out loud and of the blue (Peralta-stylez), is one time (of the many) they went grocery shopping together. They’d been wandering around the big grocery store, her and Mac, targeting the cereal aisle, hand in hand with a basket in Amy’s free hand. 

“Okay, since you and daddy ate the last of the Fruit Loops this morning we need to get some cereal. You think you can help me with that?” she looks down at her son who’s already looking up to meet her eyes. Mac’s enchanting glimmering eyes instantly light up at the thought of responsibility, a trait he’s _definitely_ inherited from her, and prompts an eager nod. Before she can even say or explain further, which he probably doesn’t actually need her to, he’s let go of her hand. 

“More Fwuit Loops!” he exclaims happily as his tiny legs take him ahead, down the aisle, to reach the mosaic of colourful cereal-boxes. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want, babe, but _maybe…”_ she walks towards him, "we could try something else for once?” she tries to not be _too_ strict about her son’s eating habits, especially when she knows Fruit Loops is usually the only straight up sugary stuff he eats daily, but also, she has to admit, secretly wishes she could perhaps _trick_ him and Jake to eat something just a bit less… candy-like. 

“What?” he stops and looks at her with a frown. “Something else?” 

“Yeah,” she catches up with him and looks as the many options before him. “Like… bran-flakes, maybe? They look yummy, right?”

Either Amy is a really bad actor or her son simply too smart, but nonetheless Mac looks more than quite unimpressed when his mom pulls a boring, brown box out from the shelf to showcase it.

“I donno want brain-flakes ew, mommy” and the face Mac makes, a face of utter _disgust_ , would be way more solid proof than a paternity test if one was needed - he is definitely, without a single doubt, Jake Peralta’s son - and she definitely can’t help but chuckle at the similarity he constantly carries with him. 

The tiny human’s hand starts dancing across all the different packages, probably gathering himself a good dose of various germs that in the moment Amy can’t make herself care about, and every now and then he’ll stop to study a cereal that’s caught his child-brain and eyes’ attention. 

“There are so many to choose from, huh babe?” she encourages but keeping her distance as to be supportive of him doing something on his own, independent like a _big boy_. 

First he stops in front of the Cheerios, which Amy can totally be content with, but alas he quickly, to Amy’s chagrin, puts them back in their spot. Then come the Frosted Flakes with their blue box and cute tiger cartoon (the perfect child-trap) which, if possible, are even worse than Fruit Loops. Amy unconsciously frowns at the thought of having to rip the box of cereal from her son’s grip when he in a few seconds won’t let go and instead grab the Bran Flakes. But to Amy’s great relief Mac’s finger continue their trip down past the tiger-trap, mindlessly mumbling small nothings to himself that she can’t quite make out. Then, all at once seeming way more determined than with previous ones, Mac throws himself at a bright and colourful box. 

“These!” he exclaims jumping up and down on the spot with the held over his head in victory. 

As soon as she gets a closer look, having gently grabbed the box from her son, it dawns on Amy that Jake Peralta being the father of her child isn’t exclusively beneficial. Not when their child is asking for Sour Patch Kids morning cereal and Amy _knows_ it’s because he’s inspired by his dad as Jake will gladly share his candy with his son whenever he happens to have some. 

“Oh, baby… “ Amy tries to keep up a neutral face as to not reveal how she dreads to get something that’s somehow even worse than the king of artificial ingredients, Fruit Loops, and sultan of sugar, Frosted Flakes, combined. “You sure you don’t just wanna get the Fruit Loops then? I don’t think you’ll like Sour Patch Kids.”

“Yes I do! I eat them with daddy all the time!” 

_Of course._

Her son is completely oblivious to her dread and shines proudly thinking he’s pleased his mom by finding _something new_ (which it is - Amy can’t deny that) to have for breakfast. And Amy’s mom-heart can’t get herself to contradict her son’s persuasion of the fact that he’s accomplished the mission she set up for him. No way. Not when his face flows with pride like it does now. 

“Okay,” she surrenders with a forsaken smile. “We can get these, but they’re very sugary so _only_ for weekend mornings, got it?” she puts her hand forward as to shake on the deal. 

Either it’s the handshake that takes his mind off of it, _or_ her 3-year old actually somehow understands nutritional values, but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t hesitate to meet her hand with his own, agreeing with her proposed deal. Immediately after she hands him back the box, it’s a mystery to Amy how such a simple thing can make her son that happy, he beams with excitement and basically hugs the box of sugary sweetness. Amy has to chuckle and then he’s off again to do his own little thing, prancing down the remains of the aisle chanting a made-up song, Amy guesses, to himself. 

_“Cereal. Breakfast. I love cereal. I love breakfast. I love mommy and mommy loves cereal and me and daddy and breakfast. Cereal, cereal, cereal!”_

And to her, and Jake’s, sheer luck Amy manages to snap a short video of it for them to enjoy and fuss about for years. 

  


That same night, Friday, they’re all lounging on the couch watching a movie. Tangled as per Mr. Mac’s demand because “Flynn Eugene whatever is really cool and the pretty princess hits him with a pan and the horse and green little thing are super fun too.” 

So, needing no further arguments, they watch Tangled and snack on Sour Patch Kids (the candy, not the cereal) that Jake had bought on his way home from work after Amy had texted him about their adventure at the grocery store, attaching the video of their son singing. 

Although, after a long day, by the time the lanterns in the movie light up the dark sky while Rapunzel and Flynn sing to each other, Mac is half, almost completely, passed out with his head in Amy’s lap and legs stretched across his father’s. Mommy stroking your face and playing with your curls turns out to be very soothing and sleep-inducing. Jake can also, if asked to testify, agree with this fact. Guess there’s something special about Peralta-curls Amy simply can’t resist. 

“Ames, I think he’s asleep,” Jake whispers discreetly throwing his wife a knowing smile when he notices his son’s current state. 

She, having not noticed being too busy watching the movie, looks down and sees, indeed, a sweet angel face with shut eyes and pouty lips that indicated that her son is, if not entirely, on the verge of being asleep. Nevertheless, every 30 seconds or so, his eyes will flutter just a bit, like tiny butterfly wings, as if he’s fighting to see the end of the movie - a movie he’s seen 134 times already. 

“You want to go to bed, Mac?” she coos leaning down to peck his temple. 

“Nu-uh,” he fights off the urge to say yes, Amy can tell. 

“You sure?” she tries again. 

He nods heavily in her lap, shuffling a bit in an attempt to get comfortable enough to, Amy knows, fall asleep. But he can’t seem to find the right spot, is surely overtired too and both parents can tell it’s a matter of minutes before he’ll give in to either fall asleep on the couch or demand to be put to bed. 

And they’re right. 

“Mommy,” he mumbles in the most exhausted and soft soft voice that makes Amy’s heart flutter time after time. “I wanna go to bed and I love you.” 

Those three words, especially coming from Mac, will never seize to send a tiny jolt of joy and dopamine through her entire being. She chuckles softly stroking his back.

“That’s okay, baby. We’ve had a long day. Let's get you to bed.” 

“Okay, I love you mommy. And daddy. Love,” he passes out before he can finish the sentence and won’t even notice his father carrying him to bed while Amy gazes after them with loving eyes. 

Even three years in, four if you count the pregnancy, she can’t believe this sweet, beautiful and smart boy is hers. A bundle of love that is half her and half the man she loves the most (next to Mac himself, of course). Parenthood is an irregular graph with ups and down, but they have so much love that it’ll make up for the bad days and hard cases. In the very end the most important thing is that he, Mac Santiago-Peralta with his brown curly hair, tiny nose and deep brown eyes, is here and he’s theirs. Not only is he theirs but he is his own and he loves them, his parents, so much, every day. Plus, he’s so good at actually expressing it that Amy can’t help but feel like they’re definitely doing something right. She’s proud to know her son is surrounded by so much love that it has planted a seed that everyday blooms within him, making him spill over and spread his care and love to other people. 

So, yes, Amy Santiago is 100% sure: she is definitely the luckiest, most loved mom in the entire universe. Mac Santiago-Peralta will always make sure of this. 


	3. #58: don't blame me, love made me crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt #58: "We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I started writing this as a fun little witty thing and then, idk why or how, it started taking this heated and smutty turn. But, being the prude that I am, I couldn't take this any further hahaha I'm sorry if you wanted it to! I might need some persuasion or inspiration if I ever want to give into pure smutty writing... Anyways, enjoy!

“What was _that_ all about?” Amy complained to her husband as she closed their front door behind them and kicked off her shoes prior to neatly lining them up by the door. Behind her trailed Jake who automatically copied his wife’s actions looking at her with an equal amount of wonder as he didn’t hold the answer for her question. “We didn’t do anything out of the ordinary?” she threw him another question meanwhile her jacket was removed as well, hung on its designated crook to reveal the flowy, burgundy, flower-patterned dress she’d been wearing for the evening at their friend’s house.

“I don’t know, Ames,” he tried to calm her down, which was always easiest if he didn’t make a big deal out of it – when he was calm he had a better chance of rubbing off on her. But alas it had been very clear from the moment the subject had been brought up at the dinner table that Amy was not going to let go of it until resolved: a stubbornness, a will to succeed that Jake deeply admired and loved but also, at times and in some certain contexts, had his apprehensions about.

“Are we that horrible to be around as a couple?” from where Jake had his back turned on the living room as he took off his leather jacket, he could hear Amy slump down onto the couch loudly flaunting her disappointment in what they’d been told tonight.

It, of course, had occurred to them both that they were married. Very much so: everything from all the meticulous planning of the big day to it being completely butchered by a bomb threat to then still getting married in front of the precinct? Oh yes, they were definitely so very married. And they both adored this new take on their love to the moon, probably even further, and back. But at tonight’s monthly Nine-Nine family-dinner, the first since their wedding in May, they’d suddenly been made aware of the fact that the newly attained degree of their relationship had reached a whole new, very specific kind of _vibe_ : They were told that it made their “already borderline sickly affectionate affinity even more _intolerable_ ” (quote Rosa) and made them “professionally and personally challenging to be around when together” (Holt’s addition to the matter at hand).

“I’m sure they didn’t mean it like that,” he slumped down, joining Amy on their couch before instinctively slinging an arm around her shoulders both as to comfort her but also by sheer selfishness, because not touching Amy Santiago at all times was a crime. She, just as him not being able to resist her spouse’s touch, leaned into it placing her head in his shoulder. “You know Holt and Rosa. They have their ways of handling emotional subjects, but they never truly mean to hurt or upset anyone.”

“Maybe…” she huffed but her husband’s attempt at convincing and comforting her didn’t seem to be quite enough. She needed the thrill and satisfaction of a solve, which meant she needed to treat the matter at hand like an open case – an investigation. She abruptly sat up straight automatically causing Jake’s arm to slide off of her “… but I’m pretty sure we didn’t go overboard with anything?” Amy turned her head to look behind her expecting an answer, but her still leaned back, somewhat disturbingly unaffected husband, looked at her with raised eyebrows and discreetly amused eyes. You’d think he’d worry more than he appeared to do, Amy couldn’t help but think…

“Honey, I know you have this need to control everything, which 99% of the time is both admirable and adorable, but right now you’re just riling yourself up about something that isn’t that deep. They all love us and in the end they just want us to be happy. Even if we get a bit lovey-dovey at times,” he confirmed his little explanation with a warm smile.

“I don’t give a hoot, Jake!” Amy exclaimed totally disregarding Jake’s actually pretty reasonable words. “We’re going to run through every second of that dinner and pinpoint every couple-y interaction we’ve had!” She got up and ran towards her little library/office-room.

“ _We_?” Jake questioned mid-yawn, trying to follow her with his eyes until she disappeared into the other room, left behind surprised by his wife’s sudden initiative. A initiative which he appeared to be have been dragged into.

“Yes,” Amy yelled from the other room. “We’re going to write down _every single_ couple-y thing we did at dinner tonight, from the second we walked into Terry’s place to the time we left, and prove that we aren’t that bad!”

Mostly just wanting to give into the tiredness and desire to just go to bed and cuddlee with his wife, but also knowing he wanted to stick to Amy’s side for this, hopefully keeping her tendency spiralling a bay, Jake tiredly rubbed his eyes trying to push aside the incoming feeling of exhaustion. And as if on cue, the second he lied down stretching out on the soft material of their couch, Amy marched back into the living room with notebook and pen in hand. When she sat down on the floor abreast Jake’s head, between the couch and the coffee table placing her appliance on the surface before her, Jake then noticed how she’d pulled her before lose, casual waves into a high pony tail – she nor the magnitude of Amy’s mission was to be messed with.

“Okay, so…”

From his admittedly relaxed and not as intensely engaged position Jake could, by an inch over her shoulder, catch a glimpse of the now open notebook where Amy’s elegant handwriting was preparing a neat list to be filled, appropriately titled _List of reasons why we’ve been “too much”_. Jake chuckled to himself allowing his eyes to rest just a bit, sneak closed, as he of course would stay awake with Amy but physically couldn’t fight his body’s tiredness entirely. Being there physically would surely be good enough.

“Okay, so we arrived at Terry’s house, separately, very important to note…” she scribbled down before continuing, “…since you worked a bit later, thus came directly from work with Charles so we couldn’t have possibly done anything there…” Amy started scribbling down until Jake chimed, or rather muttered, in himself.

“But since I’d missed you for those few hours after you left work, I walked directly over to you and kissed you in front of everyone before saying-“

“ _Hi, beautiful wife…”_ Amy finished his sentence quoting the moment from earlier by memory with a defeated voice upon realising this wouldn’t be a moment in her favor. She quietly wrote it down not feeling like further commenting. “Okay, but that isn’t _uncommon_ for us… or just any couple in general!”

“I know, babe,” Jake yawned.

“So no reason for them to be upset about that… Anyways, then we stood in the kitchen while Terry and Charles finished cooking dinner, had a glass of wine… Pretty innocent if you ask me-“

“Until we touched glasses and toasted to our 23 days as husband and wife before sharing another kiss,” Jake added sheepishly earning himself another discontent grunt prompting the sound of scribbling. 

“Whatever… Let’s move on…”

And thus they did indeed manage to run through every moment, every second, every turning point of the night while Amy dutifully and neatly as always took notes and, internally, realized that she hadn’t really been aware of a lot of the amorous moments between her and Jake - they sort of just happened, naturally, like a consistent love-pattern. Taking up multiple pages of the notebook, the list _clearly_ reflected this, but Amy still seemed somewhat in denial. Or at least right up until she added the final period to wind-up her final bullet point: _J jokingly grabbed A’s butt while yelling “Wifey-butt!” when walking to the car after dinner._

“Oh my god…” Amy complained as her body hopelessly slumped back against the couch where Jake was still resting while also being very much dedicated to his wife’s project dismay, since he was the one who 9 times out of 10 would remind her of forgotten moments, stolen kisses and loving gazes she’d forgotten about.

"I can’t believe it,” she twisted her torso as to look at her husband behind her genuinely expecting a horrified expression matching hers alas instead being met by tired, adoring eyes and a grin that was impossible to hide when his wife’s despair upon realization was this cute.

“Why are you smiling?” she frowned mostly frustrated by the situation but also confused by her husband’s lack of shared sentiment.

“We’ve become the clingy newlyweds you always complained about,” he mumbled the side of his face pressed against one of their throw pillows. “It’s cute. That’s all.”

Amy immediately felt defensive about the accusation, mostly because she knew he was right but that wasn’t exactly the expected outcome when she’d set up this little private investigation of her. “I have not complained about-“

“Oh, you’re so cute when you try to disguise the truth, babe,” he kept grinning. If there was one thing Jake loved it was teasing. Something he loved even more? Teasing Amy Santiago. And something he loved _even more_? Teasing Amy Santiago when she was in a miffy mood.

“I’m serious! When have I _ever_ complained about a bit of PDA ever? People can do whatever they want,” she had now fully switched, made a 180 turn, in her seat on the floor and looked directly at her husband with a challenging demeanor. Jake was not about to let an opportunity of this greatness like this slip away that easily: he was definitely going to get the most out of it.

“I know it’s hard to face the truth,” he said nonchalantly, definitely playing her, meanwhile he switched to lie on his back as he let out an exaggerated yawn and laced his fingers together behind his head as extra support – and also to look _that_ more pleased with himself and the situation. “But the _Jake Peralta boyfriend gone husband_ -experience can do these sort of… crazy things to a woman. It’s totally cool, honey, if you’ve just been unconsciously swept away by the rush of having me as your husband. It’s out of your control and that’s okay.”

As well as Jake knew he could push her buttons Amy knew just as well, if not even better, that there were many ways to knock Jake off his cocky perch. This, suddenly, was much more important than what anyone thought of them, or her trying to solve the matter, because them being those _clingy newlyweds she always complained about_ meant she always had her husband wrapped around her little finger. Perhaps, she had to admit, it was hypocritical of her to think like this, when she’d been the one whinnying about random couples’ #twomonthsofmarriage-posts on Instagram (Like, who cares about your two months of marriage, Karen?), and the one to roll her eyes upon overhearing some random woman mention her husband 23 times during a 5-minute conversation at their local coffee shop: she was now that annoying Instagram-couple _and_ coffee shop-woman, all in one… A supreme-annoyingly clingy-wife.

But coming to the realisation that, perhaps, she was a hypocrite was her learning from her mistakes, right? That was a good thing.

Either way she didn’t really care because, from where she was still planted on the floor before him, Amy could physically feel her brain have a change of attitude as it shut out any previous doubts and anxieties about what other thought of their marriage, their way of loving each other, and instead replacing it with the sudden brutish need to, first of all, shut Jake up, and second of all, rebel against exterior opinions about them.

She was definitely turning to her annoying newlywed-ways to make her husband shut up.

“I guess,” her before frantic tone was now suddenly completely gone and replaced by a sultry, confident tone matching the new-sprung darkness in her eyes. “But then this…”

Jake’s before tired demeanour was swallowed along with his pride the second his always beautiful, and also incredibly hot wife, pushed herself off the floor and mounted the couch to straddle his hips, more precisely the exact area where _he knew she knew_ there would be no opposing her, with the sleek movements of a lioness sneaking up on its prey. It _especially_ threw him off even further when she repositioned herself, innocently pretending to ‘just get comfortable’, thus applying just the right sultry movement and amount of pressure to this most vulnerable area.

“I guess _this…”_ she made sure the ‘s’ was clearly hissed directly into his ear as she, leaned down over him, slowly bit by bit, started to build him up by allowing her hips another grinding motion thus sending electricity through his entire body, before rounding off her pending taunt, “… is not in my control either then.”

There were no to make it past Jake’s gaping lips, all caught up in tangles in his suddenly very dry throat, although the hitch in his breath in reaction to the movement of her hips couldn’t’ve escaped her in a million years. She had him right where she wanted him.

“Is it?” she taunted again unbending her torso back up to sit up straight.

His hands which had before been resting carefree behind his head escaped its spot finding a new home on her waist, gently tracing up and down its curves like a potter shaping soft clay into artwork.

“Ames,” he whimpered upon the sensation of feeling her hands being placed on top of his to guide them downwards, past the narrowest part of her curvature, and fixed on the fullest part of her hips – where she wanted them to be. For now, that is. By instinct, being very familiar with his favorite kind of handful, Jake’s fingers dug into the fabric-clad flesh not caring whether or not he’d leave marks: her uniform would surely cover it in the morning.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t think I can control it when you’re around me, _husband_ ,” she definitely felt his body quiver at his still somewhat new title and, God, how sinful of a meaning that simple word had suddenly gained in the moment. Having fulfilled their duty of guiding him to where she wanted his touch, Amy’s hands made their way off of his before torturously sliding up his torso to play with the first, top button of his dark green flannel – one of her favorites on him… and, of course, off. Meeting her secret expectations his hands reacted to her undressing him by sliding his hands down further behind her to then, instead of her waist, grab the curve of her ass, additionally allowing himself to pull her abdomen into a soft motion against him in the desperate need of the friction she’d already given him a foretaste of. Pride was not a thing he contained much of around Amy Santiago-Peralta: was he going to let her make him unravel at the seams so easily? Absolutely. Would he be down for whatever direction she planned on taking this in? Without a doubt, even if it meant just making out followed by some cuddling, although he was currently rock hard and internally praying that she wouldn’t stop the course of things any time soon.

Her fingers popped the last button of his flannel, and with a simple look, she wordlessly ordered him to sit up straight, which he dutifully did, thus allowing her to push the fabric off of his broad shoulders before proceeding to abandon it on the floor. It might’ve been her favorite flannel on him but she liked it even more on the surface of their carpet. Thinking that she had full control of the situation, Amy was definitely startled at the sensation of Jake’s teeth taking a bite into the sensitive skin of her neck, the extra tender area right beneath where her jaw met the side of her throat and whether it was what he’d set out to do or not, he surely extracted a long, deep sigh from her now, between the fondling and the bites, _much more_ agitated body. Seemed as if Jake Santiago-Peralta was back on track after being knocked off his feet for a moment, and though she did immensely enjoy having the upper hand, there was something about Jake fighting his way back to dominance that undeniably had her body feel some kind of way.

She obviously couldn’t, it being physically impossible, see it for herself but oh how she could _feel_ the way her husband’s teeth and lips were painting colorful love-bruises on her more than usual tan and crisp skin (Thank you very much, 2 week honeymoon in Mexico). Although, before her mind could wander off to create a mental top 5-list of most effective ways to hide said up and coming hickeys, her awareness shifted to the feeling of her husband’s purposive hands grabbing the skirt of her dress, pulling it up to bundle droopily around her waist, and earning him a tiny hitch in her throat to be felt where his teeth were still attached to her.

All the teasing, the control she’d gained in counter to his cockiness, had with the snap of the fingers dissolved into the shameless abandoning of herself, giving in to the fervor he so powerfully incited within her.

“Stop worrying,” he slowly ran his hands up under the bundled material before redirecting his hands back to hold onto the soft pulp of her ass, this time the only barrier being the fabric of her panties, earning him a tiny squirm telling him she slowly began to unravel at the seams – just for him. His lips targeted a new area: hers. “You’re my wife. I’m your husband. No one gets to decide what can and can’t do.” 

As if to enhance his point, making sure she wouldn’t forget anytime soon, there was a brief moment where he drew back just a few inches to look directly into her eyes with passion still burning in his. Meanwhile one hand had left her behind and instead purposefully grabbed her jaw, making sure to keep the grip somewhat soft as to not hurt her but still firm enough to make sure she would look back. If he hadn’t had a certain agenda in mind he would’ve let the image before him bring him to his knees: Amy, messy hair, swollen lips, dark eyes, ruffled and barely holding on dress. But he had to stay firm and focused. His hand didn’t let go of her jaw and she dutifully complied deeply turned on by the discourse of the events and this persona Jake had chosen to bring out. Usually she loved having the upper hand during sexy timez, but somehow, seeing how Jake was handling her when her mind was spinning out of control, his sudden craving for dominance came like a blessing in disguise.

His lips crashed with hers, and being distracted like she was by his mesmerizing dominant persona, it took her by both storm and surprise thus not being able to hold back a pure, honest moan holding so much pleasure. Only the way his fingers teasingly traced the lace on the edge of her panties could come near taking her attention away from what, in the moment, felt like her life’s hottest kiss.

“Understood?” he breathed into her lips barely able to with the lack of air in his lungs. She nodded grasping desperately at the soft white fabric of his undershirt.

“Good,” he growled, pleased by the newfound wet fabric between his wife’s legs meaning he was certainly doing _something_ right: he had her exactly where he wanted her, both physically and mentally, and he had his now slick fingers as proof.

“Now,” he continuously toyed with the fabric, feeling up her heat before slowly edging the pantie as far down as her bent legs straddling him would allow. “You’re going to rip that list out of your notebook… ” his lips slid away from hers redirecting to nibble on her ear lobe. “Then you’re going to throw it out… ” a kiss to the shell of her ear followed behind, setting up his final act of persuasion. She was so far gone under the influence of his touch that she didn’t even care to disagree with having to throw out 20 minutes dedicated research, ink from her favorite pen and quality paper from one of her best notebooks.

“… and _then_ your husband is going to take you to your bedroom and fuck you _so hard_ you’ll forget the others even said anything at all. I’ll make sure you never complain about being newlyweds ever again.”


	4. #57: we'll turn this better thing to the best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #57: "This is probably a bad time, but marry me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY MAY 15TH, EVERYONE! 
> 
> This is just me not being able to resist writing something about Jake and Amy celebrating (or trying to) their 3rd anniversary as a married couple. This is also me, yet again, beating around that smut-bush, huh??:))

Nothing could ever come close to beating, even marginally, waking up to Jake Peralta already having his arms around middle in the lulling position that was spooning the length of her body like a perfectly fitting puzzle piece: a leg nudge in between hers while the other wrapped around them and his fingers mindlessly playing with the hem of her shirt. The appreciation for the current state they were in was especially appreciated and heartwarming when it was taken into consideration that there’d been multiple, horrible parts of their timeline where he hadn’t been around to do so. 

Everything from the sudden chaos of being sent into WitSec with Holt to him and Rosa being falsely convicted were periods they both tried to not think of and dwell on. But of course, given the powerfull impression these times in their lives had made on them, it was sometimes hard not to compare; hard not to feel _that much better_ simply because Jake was around and not taken from her anymore. They always made sure to appreciate the other, even during eventual fights or disagreement, and if they had to say one “positive” thing about the involuntary distance WitSec and prison had forced upon them it was that it had definitely only made them grow even fonder and stronger. 

So this year, another year of waking up in his arms on what she knew was an _extra_ special day, she obviously felt crazy butterflies zooming around her belly and snuggled back closer into his hold on her with still closed eyes and a tiny content smile on her face. 

This year’s anniversary had to be enjoyed for its small, tiniest moments, she knew. There was no time nor energy, they’d agreed, for grand gestures and outings when this May 15th all at once held the same special sentiment as previous year yet also a completely new range of feelings. 

Today, for the past three years, May 15th had been a special date which held a dear place in both Jake and Amy’s hearts as it reminded them of the day that sealed their love for eternity. Although this year, their third anniversary, May 15th 2021 to be exact, was simply a tiny bit more special than usual: this year they weren't just the two of them - this year they had a teeny tiny son and he was as soft and sweet as he was time-craving and a tiny character of his own. Especially on a day like today, filled with an extra dash of love and reflecting upon the past, life before Mac seemed vaguely blurred: not in a bad way per se, just not as perfectly chaotic and wonderful as now that Mac Peralta was around. 

Amy, still somewhat half-sleeping, quietly relished in her husband’s affectionate embrace and in the thought of having her entire world, Jake and baby-Mac, within the four walls of her home on a special day like this, but nonetheless also made sure to give some extra appreciation to the fact that Mac had been sleeping since she last fed him before bed last night. Considering the intense teething period he was currently going through that was truly a miracle she did not dare to fully believe in, but perhaps, just _maybe_ , her little one could sense that it was mommy and daddy’s day today. 

The feeling of her husband switching a bit in his spot against her back paired with a pleased sigh caught her attention hinting at the fact that he was surely somewhat awake, and though Amy wanted him to enjoy the tiny amount of sleeping in Mac they were currently offered, she also happened to crave his woken presence, deep brown eyes and loving smile. 

“Happy 3 years of childish, distracting marriage…” as if on cue, having read her thoughts, Jake mumbled tiredly into the back of her head before reposition himself closer to have his head rest in the crook between her shoulder and neck nuzzling his nose tiredly into the side of her face. 

Gosh, she loved him so much it still, even after 6 years together, came crashing down on her like a huge wave of giddiness and first date-feelings. She smiled to herself at his congratulations. “Dito. It’s been 3 great ones, huh?”

“It has..,” He yawned loudly, “… _Especially_ when our son decides to sleep in like this.” 

“Especially then, yes,” she huffed out a small laugh sharing the sentiment even though the fact that her baby very rarely needed night feeds anymore also meant he was growing up - too fast, if you asked her. Her barely 7-month old was wonderful and both parents had the time of their lives watching him grow up. Yet it was no lie that from time to time it’d hit Amy just how fast, almost by the day, her son grew, learned a new skill and became more of a an actual person. Sometimes even to an extent where it’d overwhelm her leaving her feeling borderline… sad? Even though it had been exhausting for the first few months, and still was from time to time, she also now kinda missed the little things like the ritual of breast-feeding. She loved sleep but loved the primal, instinctual feeling of nursing her son, even more the closeness that came with it, more. 

“What time is it?” 

Jake’s groggy voice snapped her out of her tumbling train of thoughts and forcing her to open her eyes to check the clock on her night stand.

“6 AM which means-“ 

Jake knew what his wife was about to say, but beat her to it and might've somehow changed the narrative of their morning. 

“-Mac should be waking up anytime soon, I know but, babe, let him stay in bed till he asks to be picked up… Perhaps this is the morning we get lucky?”

Amy wanted to question what exactly that was supposed to mean but he beat her to it an said question was quickly answered by her husband’s warm lips sending thrills down her spine with the way they gently placed small, tender pecks to where his head had previously rested. Immediately she felt her body perk up in reaction to this and the heavy, tired feeling from before was gone within a matter of pecks. Alas, in the back of her mind, Amy knew and was still somewhat aware of three things: 

One: where she _wanted_ this to go

Two: where this _could_ take them

Three: where _her son_ was sleeping just 20 feet from their bed

“Jake,” the full-on whine that came out of her as provoked directly by his kisses was ascribable to two facts:

Firstly that, yes, she of course reacted by the book to her husband’s touches. But also, secondly, and if not more realistically, the fact that their sex-life had definitely simmered down for the past months - that’s what having a baby will do to you - and that it really didn’t take much for either of them, even less than before, to get foolishly, easily impassioned by the other’s intimate cues. One kiss, just a bit deeper than the casual peck, was apparently enough to throw all sense of control out the window. 

If they used to be turned on by the other as effortlessly as faucets then they could now definitely be compared to gardens hoses playfully twisted by a kid’s hand as to block the water surge: bu with one move, the letting go of the hose, the water flow would pick right up where it’d been blocked within a matter of milliseconds and there was no stopping the powerful rush. 

By then his hands, having previously rested on the soft remains of her baby bump that she tended to feel insecure about but he, on the other hand absolutely loved, had moved up under her night shirt only to continue to her breasts which definitely didn’t help her stay cool in the moment. 

“ _Babe…_ ” she whined again even though she also definitely did not putup her strongest fight: she loved nursing her son, and although the two matters were far from comparable, she would also be the last one to complain about Jake benefiting from her breast in… other ways. 

“… Mac is in the room.”

“We can be quiet,” his pecks had evolved into love bites and passionate suckles the minute his hands made their way under her shirt, and by now it seemed like they’d reached the point of no return - sleeping baby son only feet away and all. 

“You know we can’t,” she breathed heavily voicing her gradual subjection to the development of the moment while simultaneously trying to stay aware of her surroundings. Alas in vain and only to come to terms with having miserably, doubtlessly failed the second Jake managed to flip her to her other side thus enabling him to push her onto her back and using his weight kiss her even more deeply than before. 

“Well…” he chuckled allowing himself a short break from her lips to speak although, obsessed and addicted, making sure to pick up where he left up as soon as his talking allowed a natural pause. 

“… Either that or we’ll have to explain to our baby son why mommy and daddy were making weird noises in bed.” 

“Jake!” she exclaimed at this statement, the hypothetical scenarios in her head getting _too_ real, causing Jake to react right away by pulling away using his arms to hover his weight over her thus allowing her some space and them to look get a proper look at each other. 

Suddenly his before aroused expression was replaced by a note of concern in both his eyes and voice. “I’m so sorry! We can totally stop if you don’t want to go any further. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

Amy herself paused momentarily, mostly out of surprise since their mutual consent, after having been in a relationship so long, was rarely explicitly verbalised: generally being very attentive of the other during sex and knowing the other’s body and signals so well they could easily tell when to stop and when to move forward. Unless they were straight up experimenting and treading unknown land, their intimate moments had rarely to never caused this kind of sudden halts. So seeing this extra considerate side of her husband, although she never doubted that it was there to make her feel safe, made her heart flutter momentarily reminding her of the feeling of Mac’s tiny kicks inside her womb months ago. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” she reassured him by reaching up to run her fingers through his curls aka. an attribute of Jake’s which their son (to her very immense satisfaction) had inherited. “I know you meant well and I didn’t mean to _proclaim_ like that,” she made sure to throw on her warmest smile and eyes to reassure him. “I was just being weary of Mac, but I think I need to allow myself some…not very mommy-like pleasure.”

He smiled letting her speak out. 

“Also I just, like _completely_ out of nowhere, remembered reading this article pointing out that babies this young won’t actually… ” she tried to form her point in her mind whilst her husband looked at her with an amused smile on his face “… like, they won’t be affected by it so, I guess we could…” 

How come she all of the sudden, as a woman in her late 30s, suddenly felt like a silly teenager when talking about something as natural to them as sex? 

“Honey,” he disrupted her internal spiralling running a hand through her hair the way she’d so lovingly done just seconds ago. He trailed and picked at it where was spread out across her pillow with his fingers as his amused grin took on a more comforting nature. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with, okay? Today’s date, and the fact that your butt will forever be the bomb, just got me caught up in the moment. But I _totally_ get it if you feel weird doing anything with Mac around and you shouldn’t have to compromise that - even for me. It’s more than okay,” he lowered himself to peck her forehead before refocusing on her face and what she was about tosay. 

And how she loved him even more for always taking into consideration her feelings and reactions, even after 6 years together, but something about his strong arms flexing under his weight on either side of her head, his ruffled-up curls and already saturated, glowing even, pink lips made something in the back of her mind click. She quickly did the math in her head:

Mac was still an infant lacking anything near the ability to understand the nature of the sounds his parents were making and the concept of sex. He was feet away, safe in his crib with no direct outlook on them, and all of this was not even taking into consideration that he was still fast asleep. It was now or never - or so it felt like. 

“Jacob Santiago-Peralta,” her eyes suddenly switched to a shade of dark, almost black, brown Jake hadn’t seen in quite a while immediately causing more than just his eyes to bulge. “We’re _definitely_ inaugurating our third year as a married couple and we’re doing it _now_.” 

And seeing a more than convincing look on his wife’s face Jake didn’t have to be told twice before crashing their lips together, resuming him repositioning himself between his wife’s thighs to give her sacred body, the one that carried their son for 9 months, the love it so very much and rightfully deserved. 

Within minutes the very limited pieces of clothing they slept in were discarded, thrown carelessly onto the bedroom floor as if they were discovering each other for the first time, and after a reasonable amount of foreplay (mostly timewise since Mac waking up was just a matter of minutes) Jake painted a trail of sloppy kisses along his wife’s sleek collarbone as he, after a lot of shifting and moving around during preceding sexy actives, repositioned himself one last time. 

Under the weight and spell of his naked body, physically and metaphorically,Amy was desperately writhing having thrown all sense of control and modesty out the window a long time ago and grasped onto his upper back in a demand for _more_ and an urge she’d put aside so many times these past months for the sake of dedication to being a mother. 

“God, please don’t laugh at me when I _definitely_ , ‘cause I will, finish within 5 minutes,” she finished her sentence with a moan as he bit down on the skin spurring her collar bones. Perhaps 5 minutes was even an optimistic exaggeration when her body already felt on the urge of exploding and he hadn’t even entered her yet.

She could tell her very honest comment earned her a soft chuckle, but she was too far gone and caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure to care plus, even if it would only last minutes, she just needed her husband inside of her _now_. 

“5 minutes sound _incredible_ , Ames,” he breathed out frankly not even minding the fact that their before very vigorous stamina had definitely gone downhill since having Mac. Instead he simply appreciated his favorite feeling in the world which, since the day he got to feel it for the first time, was the one of Amy Santiago wrapped around him.

Though he would never give it up permanently for anything in the world, even incredible sex with his incredible wife, he was just as excited as her to slip out of his father-role for what would probably end up being just a matter of 20 minutes in total or so. He was breathing heavily, growling, as he redirected his lips to hers where he hoped to, although the method had been proven faulty before, quell her upcoming sounds of pleasure. 

“I love you,” she claimed out of breath bracing herself for the wonderful stretch she knew was approaching by the second. 

“Love you too,” he sloppily replied between kisses. “So much,” was added in closing of the exchange of words of love as he braced and steadied himself for the initial thrust.

Then, planted so horribly perfectly that they could’ve sworn they were taking part in a movie, a cry cut through the thick intimate tension without delay bursting the bubble Jake and Amy had formed around themselves in the heat of the moment. 

Becoming a parent came with the incredible ability to completely switch your focus within matter of seconds and thus react to whatever need your baby called out for. Right then and there was a perfect example, and though picking up where they’d come to, which was _so close,_ seemed dangerously tempting they both knew there was no way they were actually going there.  They were a married couple wanting to celebrate each other and their love, yes, but first and foremost, even more importantly, they were parents. 

Jake carefully bent his arms not needing the leverage anymore and lowered himself onto his wife before rolling onto his back besides her. Both started blankly into the air for second, almost unknowingly recreating the scene after their first time together, not saying anything but burning with repressed lust on the inside. 

Then they broke into a collective chuckle. 

Amy turned onto her side to look at her husband’s profile, taking it in before he imitated her action and they were left staring into each other’s eyes with knowing, amused expressions. 

This was really their life now and though not always as easy as being “ _just married_ ” it was definitely the life they’d always wished for and felt blessed to have. The irony of it all which existed in the clash between their love and physical yearning for each other, and their shared responsibility and love for their son, interruptions considered, was all at once humorous and tragic. But even then they had no doubt in their minds: their love for each other was unbreakable and celebrating their three years of marriage with their so very loved son interrupting much needed sex was still collectively considered somewhat perfect.

Nothing could ever take away the melting feeling she still got whenever Jake looked at her like he did now, so calm and in love, and knowing he now also shared that look with their son still reminded her of a surreal, perfect dream. He had so much love for the both of them: so much that she was sometimes convinced of the fact that it couldn’t be real. But then times like these reminded her of the fact that it was indeed very much so and that she would marry him all over again if she was given the chance. 

The fussy sounds coming from the crib increased by the second and Jake knew that the second either of them decided to get up for their son, which would be sooner than later, this tiny bubble of an amorous moment would be gone. And so he decided to just go with what felt appropriate because, really and truly, looking at her right now he felt as if he could marry her all over again. 

“I know our baby is screaming for attention, and that he needs it more than me and that this is probably a bad time but… marry me?” He smiled widely running a hand through her tousled hair earning him a just as wide smile of appreciation and adoration back. 

She leaned in and offered him a kiss, long and tender but controlled as she knew she’d have to get up now. Managing to not get caught up she pulled back caressing his cheek with the hand that allowed him to feel the soft stroke of her wedding band and engagement ring. 

“First I’m going to go get our son, but then…” she leaned in and gave his lips a final peck, this time withdrawing just enough to look at him but still have their noses touch before finishing what she’d started, “… Yes, I will marry you all over again, as many times as you want, every day, week, month and year, for eternity and beyond, Jake Peralta.” 


	5. i don't wanna miss you like the other girls do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As per request on tumblr this is 3 prompts in one: 
> 
> #12: I can't stop thinking about you  
> #22: Sometimes I just can't control myself when around you  
> #28: I have never felt this way about anyone
> 
> Jealous! Amy happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr i asked what people would rather read: jealous jake or jealous amy, and Amy clearly won so here we go!  
> Do I need to make a statement saying that Amy obviously isn't the kind of person to think she owns anyone, but means it well and in an endearing way? There you go.
> 
> ENJOY!
> 
> Leave me comment and kudos, pls, I'm starving :)) 
> 
> xx

It had all gone down in a _spur of the moment_ -kind of moment that no one, even less Amy, had seen coming and honestly would’ve preferred to be without. It wasn’t really her place to say or do what she did, nor even as much as react upon it, alas… she did; she was in so deep with Jake Peralta and so she did it anyways. 

Said moment had gone down during a weekend spent in Hartford, Connecticut, where the squad had attended a two day-seminar hosted by their brothers and sisters in the HPD. 

Since the drive to Hartford was one of two hours, plus the seminar took place Saturday through Sunday, the squad had huddled together in two cars and were spending the entire weekend, Friday through Sunday, north of their respective homes in Brooklyn. 

Immediately from the moment they arrived at the the hotel slash conference venue where the seminar was to be held everything seemed to set the scene for a pretty smooth, perhaps even fun, weekend where the squad would get to be entertained by other things that the wondering of why they weren’t at home on a weekend. 

No one on the squad had any kind of expectations for the unknown city, except Holt who mentioned _The Mark Twain House and Museum_ as a highly ranked point on his _to be done_ -list, which meant their collective surprise upon exploring the city after checking into their rooms Friday afternoon was indeed positive enough for them to not hate the fact they were spending their weekend away from home doing work-related activities. 

The very second the clock obnoxiously signalled 7 AM the following day, because not being home wasn’t an excuse, Amy Santiago was up and out of bed leaving Jake to regret, just for a tiny second, that he shared a room with his brand new paramour. It’d only been two weeks since coming to terms about “screw light and breezy”, and so far everything was smooth sailing although that morning was clearly an example of the two still figuring out this new dynamic of theirs. 

“Ugh, can you stop being a decent person and get back in bed,” Jake groaned in pain when Amy without hesitance pulled aside the curtain to let in the bleak east coast-sun. If they’d been away on vacation in Mexico, even just as far as California, then maybe Jake would’ve accepted this. But there sure as hell was nothing less motivating than a sad barely there-sun hiding behind puffy clouds but still shining brightly enough to rip him out of his comfortable sleep. Especially when all there was to “look forward to”, quote Amy, was seminars; learning and powerpoint presentations that would haunt him in his next sleep. 

“Stop whining and get up! The seminar starts at 8!” Amy hurried carelessly at him used to his many complaints of this childish nature. She didn’t let it take up too much of her time and had already moved on to grab clean clothes from her duffle bag to put on after her routine shower. 

From where he had indeed not moved an inch Jake could hear the shower being turned on, door to the bathroom still open, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he was exhausted from staying up just a bit too late watching stupid videos on his phone then he would’ve attempted to sneak into the steaming water with Amy because he could do that now… Insane.

On the other side of the shower curtain Amy had expected the same. There was very good reason why she’d added the little detail of leaving the door open and hoped would lure him out of bed. To her disappointment she quickly noticed her so-called sneaky plan was in vain leaving but one last attempt up her sleeve. 

“Jake, the breakfast buffet closes at 7.30!” she called out momentarily turning off the shower to allow her to pick up on potential sounds which could indicate her victory. 

Indeed the last attempt was the right one: seconds later she heard the sound of quick footsteps and the ruffling of what she guessed was clothing items before a messy-haired, baggy-eyed Jake stumbled into the bathroom stark naked and on the edge of out of breath. The way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, Amy though to herself amused. 

“Mind if I join in real quick?” he smiled sheepishly trying his best to hide exhaustion. 

All complaints and opposing to her morning ritual went down the drain with shower water the moment Amy turned it back on and smiled through biting down on her bottom lip. 

Santiago: 1 - Peralta: 0 

Perhaps Amy had twisted the truth just a tiny bit to get him out of bed so early. Jake figured this out when they 20 minutes later walked downstairs and saw a sign announcing that the first part of the seminar wasn’t scheduled for 8, like Amy had said, but rather 9 and buffet as well only closed an hour later than Amy’s information had told him. Lucky for her he was so infatuated that he let her off the hook with a playful jab to her sides and a comment about how she probably didn’t even want to date him but was simply a double-agent sent to improve his habits and lifestyle. This in return earned him a very familiar by now laugh, roll of this eyes and smile-combo: a combo he’d never get tired of and already felt like getting an eternal subscription to.

The seminar was _okay_ , he guessed; either that or watching Amy furiously yet impressively neatly take notes with the speed of light beside him was enough to make it feel so. He was convinced of the latter when she afterwards with the brightest smile on her face showed him all the knowledge she’d managed to boil down to a few neatly organised pages in her notebook. It felt dangerous so early on in whatever they would turn out to be, yet also so very natural that in his world nothing was greater than the sight of Amy Santiago smiling at him. A sight he’d quickly grown addicted to already years back although without coming to terms with it until some months prior. 

“Are you sticking around for the Q & A?” Amy interrupted his wandering thoughts whilst getting a new page in her notebook ready as a few people started leaving their seats and the conference room. 

“Nah,” Jake shook his head honestly knowing that it would be lying to both himself and her if he tried to act like he genuinely cared about sticking around for an additional 30 minutes of re-explaining what he’d already spent 2 hours zoning in and out of. “I think I’ll head to the lounge. I’m feeling snacky.” 

“Of course,” Amy smiled shaking her head in an evident manner. “See you at lunch then?” 

“Yup,” he got out of his seat before adding a “see you at lunch, nerd,” accompanied by one last teasing smile before joining Rosa on her walk towards the exit. The comment combined with his soft brown eyes and warm smile was enough to have Amy feeling like a puddle of mush in her seat. To know that said brown eyes and warm smile were… _hers_? It felt weird to say or even just think it since they hadn’t officially declared themselves boyfriend/girlfriend but definitely were _something_ ; something not light and breezy; perhaps solid was the appropriate antithesis to use? 

No matter what - light, breezy, solid or whatever they could be defined as - when her eyes trained after Jake walking off for just tiny bit longer than intended, Amy definitely noticed how a group of four women, colleagues, she assumed, sitting on the other side of the middle isle between her and them where Jake was walking chatted and giggled as their eyes switched back and forth between each other and Amy’s favorite partner. In spite of the fact that she was en excellent lipreader Amy, to her curiosity’s dismay, couldn’t exactly tell what these women were saying or giggling about however two things were certain: one was that they were in one way or another _very_ interested in Jake, even after he’d left the room, and two was that Amy didn’t like it. An uneasy tightness formed in her stomach telling her so and she for the following 30 minutes of a Q & A she had looked forward to couldn’t focus enough to take any actual notes. All she was left with post Q & A were mindless doodles on an otherwise blank page which was both a waste of paper and but even worse of no good use for her knowledge.

The second the seminar was officially completely over which was everyone’s cue to leave for lunch, Amy did her best, notebook and pencil case held tightly to her chest, in an attempt to get as close to the giggly group of women from before as the room’s population walked out of the room in one big stream. Completely forgetting that she was supposed to meet up with the Jake and the others for lunch she automatically followed the four women to the hotel bar where they settled down - and so of course so did Amy simply opting for a few seats further down in conjunction with ordering herself a soda as to not attract herself any suspicion or attention. 

“Oh my gosh, Sydney, you _have_ to figure out who that guy from the seminar was!” 

This definitely caught Amy’s attention, both to her pleasing and bitterness: pleasing because she’d been right about her gut-feeling and bitterness because that guy was her guy. Not whoever this Sydney was. 

“Yeah, he was pretty cute right?” Who Amy guessed was Sydney, a tall, beautiful blonde clad in a nice pantsuit, Amy had to admit, answered just as enthusiastically. 

“Totally! And since he’s here, probably, also a cop,” the same friend who had started the conversation chimed in and Amy wished to God she’d just shut up rather than stuff her friend’s head with bad ideas like hitting on Amy’s own guy.

“I smell work place-romance, ladies,” a third friend giggled riling the other’s up along with her. To them it was all a joke, fun, some kind of competition of cat and mouse but Amy, at her respective end of the bar, was feeling herself starting to boil, more than she’d like to admit, at the thought of someone else taking away from her what she’d just struggled for so long to obtain. It was her cute cop-guy from the seminar; her work-place romance; her… whatever! And also what kind of dumb name was Sydney even? Jake and Sydney? So dumb. 

“I mean we are here for another entire day so I’ll have to make sure to run into him at some point. Tonight…” the tone of Sydney’s voice took on a sultry undertone that had Amy shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. “… wouldn’t be a bad time to run into him.” The smug smile on the blonde’s face had Amy feeling like punching it right off of her. 

As if on cue, like timing couldn’t have been _any worse,_ friend number four made her presence be known and squealed with excitement while pointing which of course immediately earned herself the three other’s full attention. “Girls! There he comes! Right there!” 

Within seconds all four girls heads snapped to the side with wide hungry eyes reminding Amy of what a flock of vultures looked like prior to ripping apart an animal cadaver in a documentary she’d watched a few days ago. 

Vulture-like or not, Amy’s head was included in this collective redirecting of focus and followed the direction in which the friend had pointed to. 

And there he was indeed: Jake Peralta, clad in his navy blue long-sleeved NYPD-shirt and freshly cut hair with the tiniest hint at a beginning forehead curl, was walking into the lounge that very moment seemingly looking around for someone and also completely unaware of the people watching him as his entrance seems to unfold in slow-motion. Amy _almost_ couldn’t blame the girls for drooling because the cocky detective looked _really_ good walking into the room completely oblivious to the attention he’d brought upon himself. 

“Damn… He looks even cuter than what I remembered. I have to give it a try, don’t I?” Sydney questioned, obviously rhetorically already knowing what she wanted as she almost drooled like an agitated Doberman. 

“I mean if you won’t, Sydney, then I will!” the friend who’d noticed Jake enter the room playfully challenged, and even though it was all fun and games to them, Amy felt like her seat was on fire making it almost impossible to stay passive and seated for much longer. 

“Oh, hell no. Stay away from him. This one’s mine, Jasmin!” 

There was no telling if the line had already been crossed multiple inappropriate remarks ago and she’d managed by the grace of God to stay seated or if this last comment was the one to exceed what Amy considered her very flexible limits. Either way, no matter what, the first one option or the other, this time Amy failed to bite her tongue. She threw a comment out into the open without thoroughly considering its consequences out in the open fora first thus letting the group, especially Sydney, know what was weighing on her mind. 

“You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’,” the borderline growl of a tone in which the words came out in had Amy feeling like another person: not one she specially liked. This person, or perhaps even primitive _beast_ was a better way of describing this persona _,_ rooted deep down in her apparently found it very necessary to protect what she already within two weeks had come to mark as her territory. Never before had she felt so green-eyed, so absolutely reckless. This being said her instincts were more vigilant than ever before and it virtually felt out of her hands. 

In the meantime, while Amy was looking at her decision in retrospect yet not at all since she wasn’t doing anything to prevent any further complications, the women had turned in their seats to collectively shoot quizzical, annoyed looks resembling daggers with their eyes at Amy. 

“Excuse me?” The blue-eyed blonde challenged Amy to take her statement back which roughly said only goaded her raven-haired opponent further down the warpath.

“I said: You've got a lot of nerve to call a complete stranger ‘yours’.” 

Feeling herself so ice-cold, so sure about something partially dumb and actually really petty would normally have Amy back down right away but something deep inside of her, like a raging fire, had her stand her ground. Apparently that’s what Jake Peralta could bring out in certain people, both Amy and Sydney included, because the blonde was not backing down just, rather instead coolly took another shot at Amy in the hopes to have her back off.

“Why shouldn't I? It’s not like he’s everyone, right? I’m for sure not letting any of these girls run off with him,” she pointed to the her friends behind her, the switch from threatening Amy to mindlessly joking and giggling with her little girl-squad having Amy metaphorically slack-jawed. Luckily not physically: there was no way she was showing this bimbo any sign of weakness. 

“Okay, well…” Amy had had it for good and all consideration of rationality was out the window. Crowded police seminar or not there was no way in hell this light haired pest with her greedy crystal blue eyes and three flippant followers were getting the last word.“…let me explain to you why how you shouldn't assume and make people your property. Especially when you don’t even know them.” 

Yes, she was being a hypocrite saying this but she was actually Jake’s special someone and not just some stranger: she did have a say in this. 

For a brief second Sydney seemed shocked and like she actually considered Amy’s bold statement, but it didn’t last and before long blondie was back in the game apparently not satisfied with the way things could be left off. They way things _should_ be left off, if you asked Amy. 

“Oh, so you’re his “girlfriend” or what?,” the tone of Sydney’s voice clearly implied she didn’t believe anything Amy said. 

All the, not _doubt_ per se since she knew she wanted to be with Jake and he with her, but perhaps the _insecurities_ about what stage they were currently at melted and slipped away as water off a duck’s back. It didn’t matter what exactly they were when one thing, the most important fact, was sure: they liked each other and they were going… steady. They were each other’s, politically correct to say or not. 

“Yes, that’s _exactly_ what I am,” Amy’s voice and eyes drilled into Sydney’s with a kind of confidence she’d never felt before, perhaps something Jake had brought into her life along with himself.

In return it earned her a mocking scoff. 

“Easy for you to say. He might as well be a random guy you’ve spotted in the crowd,” one of Sydney’s friends stepped in to help her friend in what Amy _knew_ was a lost cause on their part. 

“He could be a stranger,” Amy paused very briefly biting her lip as to refocus, hopefully managing to not say anything that could potentially make the pointless, stupid conversation even worse. This but also she still did want to make very clear that the random, cute cop walking into the lounge (who even knew where exactly he was at this point?) was _hers_. 

“But he’s not: he’s my _boyfriend_.” 

It was as Amy allowed herself a small halt to provide her lungs with fresh air, just in case Sydney felt like dragging out the discussion, when cute cop-guy very suddenly made his exact positionknown. He was walking straight up to the bar and them displaying smiley lips and eyes plastered on Amy. All the women’s eyes - Amy, Sydney _and_ friends - immediately forgot about their opponent to focus on newly reappeared target who obviously had no clue about the fact that he was walking into the belly of the beast when he made it to his destination next to Amy.

“Hey, Ames.”

He nonchalantly stretched out his right arm to place a hand on the bar behind her crating a point of support for him to lean his weight onto. 

“You catching up with some old friends?” 

Oh, sweet naive Jake, Amy thought but also lowkey melted as he very credulously sent Sydney and her friend’s a warm, welcoming smile wanting to make a good impression on who he believed were part of Amy’s social circle.

“Eh,” Amy smiled culpably knowing telling Jake the truth about the situation would be the epitome of an embarrassment so early on in this new relationship of theirs. “I was just making small-talk, I guess. You know… meeting new people - yay.” 

She couldn’t have sounded any less awkward and enthusiastic, even if she tried. Jake, on his part, was either really openminded or had figured out there was a good reason as to why she acted like she did and didn’t want to dig deeper into it, settling for an understanding nod.

“Well, anyhow… I don’t mean to interrupt anything but you never showed up for lunch and so I just popped in to try and find you.” 

Even head turned to look at Jake who was slightly behind her meaning she could only see Sydney out of the corner of her eye, Amy could tell her smug, confident look from before was faltering with every exchange of words between Jake and Amy though they were far from flirty or telling about their relationship in any way. And, yes, she could’ve left it at that, as undramatic at it had all managed to turn out but Amy, well aware of how petty it was, she knew, couldn’t help but want to conclusively knock in the nail of victory. 

“Aw,” Amy spun a quarter of a round on her barstool to face Jake behind her before affectionally placing a hand on his chest - both for the sake of the show but also because, wow, she could actually do that as she pleased now. Something she was still getting used to. 

“That’s very sweet of you, _babe_ ,” the word in focus was always said in an affectionate tone but this specific context definitely had it over-enhanced and laced with extra sweetness to make her message very clear. 

Then breaking her own _no making out at work_ -rule, the only rule to have survived “screw light and breezy”, she couldn’t help herself and gave into the enraged possessiveness inside of her. She leaned in to place a soft, just a bit longer than a peck, kiss to Jake who automatically lightly bent his neck to eliminate the remaining space between their current height difference. The kiss was good, they always were with him, but it definitely had to send a signal that hopefully Sydney would pick up on: do not touch. 

Amy, not wanting to break her own rule too much and give in to straight up inappropriate PDA, then pulled back to throw the women-squad a smirk over her shoulder as her hand never left the safety of Jake’s blue shirt. 

“Anyways… I think we’re done here? Right, girls?” 

To her immense pleasure Amy was met by a mixture of bitterness and surprise which had to mean she’d proven her point. Finally. Jake Peralta, officially boyfriend or not, was not to be considered anyone but hers - apart from being very much his own person as well. 

In the meantime, slightly shocked but also far from displeased by Amy’s very out of blue-kiss, Jake stood passive by waiting for his partner’s upcoming directions. He didn’t have to wait for long because whoever these other women were, Amy was done with them and hopped off of her stool promptly grabbing his hand to walk away with. It took him a few feet of walking in silence before Jake could fully assemble and give meaning to everything that had just happened. He turned to question a still smug, also a bit guilty-looking, Amy. 

“Okay, so are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

They kept walking out of the lounge and down one of the many halls of the hotel. 

“Nothing.”

Jake was perhaps naive at times as he saw a lot of good in everything, which Amy _loved_ , but he knew a guilty lip bite when he saw it and it was currently on full display on the raven haired beauty. 

“Hey,” he pulled her aside into one of the many small wall pockets leading to individual hotel rooms as he wished to seclude them in hopes of it easing her into telling him the truth. “What’s up with you?” he smiled knowingly taking some intensity out of the moment. It’s not like he was angry or anything, curious being a better word for it. 

“Nothing,” she smiled sheepishly trying to hurry out of the secluded area but quickly realising she’d failed once she felt his hand wrap around her upper arm to gently pull her back in. Her back gently fell back against the wall before him forcing her to face him. 

He lightly tilted his head to the side much like a puppy would when feeling peculiar which was hard to resist when his eyes, soft and brown, had so much resemblance with a sweet puppy’s as well. She could tell he was teasing her, aware of the fact that he knew something she didn’t and it drew her insane in both the worst and best way - Jake Peralta summed up for you. 

“Now I don’t believe that… _girlfriend_.”

In contrast to the playfulness controlling her body seconds ago Amy Santiago suddenly felt much more put on the spot, it clearly showing by the way her blood all at once seemed to fire up her cheeks. He’d overheard her talking to Sydney and the others; he’d heard her declare herself as his girlfriend when they hadn’t even agreed on calling each other that yet. The nervousness tricked her into making a loud swallow; yet another tell. 

“Oh… y-you heard that?” She stuttered. 

Jake nodded firmly almost encapsulating her against the wall when he took a step forwards, but made sure to leave just enough space for her to not feel straight up trapped against her will. A small smug smile on display. Why was he enjoying this? Didn’t he see that he was torturing her?

“I’m sorry - I really didn’t mean to. I know we’ve just barely begun seeing each other as more than friends, it’s just these girls were saying things about you and sometimes I just can't control myself when around you and then it just kind of-“

He cut off her rambling by pressing his lips to hers, much needed, gently pressing her up against the wall although. Only because they were hidden from the majority of the hotel’s population, Amy allowed and excused this - or so she told herself. The feeling of his welcoming lips made her forget the mess for a few seconds, just giving into how good of a kisser Jake Peralta was, and even for a few seconds after their lips parted again she was speechless and dumbfounded by how she’d gotten herself a guy this great. 

“Stop apologising,” he chuckled quickly using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth which inevitably made him look that much hotter. 

“I know we didn’t exactly “agree on it” and that it’s still all very new, like you said, but, Ames…” his eyes mellowed after looking just a tad too cocky and alluring before, during and right after the kiss. This was definitely a different shade of Jake looking into her eyes and talking: a very soft one. “… I don’t need a certain trial period or approval from anyone to know that I’m your boyfriend and you’re my girlfriend.” 

Upon hearing these words coming from the one and only Jake Peralta with recipient being herself, Amy Santiago she felt her heart shoot through the roof, take a trip around the moon and fly straight back into her chest where it had her feeling like crying, smiling, screaming and laughing all at once: a very maniac-like but also wonderful feeling. The most wonderful as far as she could recall. 

“And I’m not going to force you to tell me exactly what happened, but just based on the way your fists were basically clenched when I walked up to you, am I wrong to assume that they were, let’s say, treading on your territory…” 

If she’d been blushing before then now her face was definitely on fire and looking down at her feet apparently didn’t help cover it at all. The silence was enough of an answer, one which he chuckled in reaction to. 

“It’s okay, Ames. At least I came around before you could Jimmy Brogan them.”

At this sympathetic joke reminding her of a time that seemed to be so long ago she had to look back up. She couldn’t hold back a chuckle and it warmed her heart to share it with him just like when he shared his with her. All the previous insecurities: had she gone too far? Let her tongue run away with her? Given too much of herself too fast to something as brand new as her relationship with Jake? It had all been answered by a few simple words, caring eyes and a kiss that told her everything she needed to know. 

“I just don’t want you to think I’m this crazy-jealous, possessive type. I’m normally not like this, I promise. I guess I have never felt this way about anyone before and maybe that’s why I’m acting up. Amy I crazy?” a tingling feeling of vulnerability made an encore. 

“No, you’re not because I’m right here freaking out, in the best kind of way, because of what you just said. This is the first time I feel like this too, like I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s scary and great all at once.” Jake was quick to wash away said vulnerability she was feeling and replaced it with a prickling affection and hope.

“So… no more feeling insecure about us?” he offered some kind of peace-offering, partly to her but mostly to their shared insecurities, trying to not come off as too gluttonous as he slid his hands onto her waist wanting to soak in a new feeling of belonging. A feeling he’d found in her. 

“Deal,” Amy accepted the offering with a sheepish smile as her insides flipped upside down witch excitement. All she wanted was to be with this guy, fully and greatly, and this confrontation and mutual agreement would allow her to not give a damn about future external factors. 

“Noice. Smart,” escaped him in optimistic relief but before she could roll her eyes at it he leaned in to softly kiss her again. Being held by him, hands gently tracing the front pockets of her pants while his lips took her to another world, was something she could never deny him or herself - screw the rules. Lips collided over and over again, one tug bringing on the next until they lost sense of anything and were full on making out like a pair of horny high schoolers in-between classes. This is what they brought out in each other: happiness, fire, want and so many more things they’d both spent the last two weeks wondering how they’d lived without before. 

Unfortunately their movie-like moment had to be cut somewhat short as people coming back from lunch started flooding the hall passing by their little intimate pocket in the wall. Amy liked Jake but she also liked staying professional and this Jake respected. They jumped back, creating an exaggerated amount of space between them before sending passing strangers innocent smiles as if they hadn’t just spent the last few minutes declaring feelings and making out at an interstate police seminar. 

“So, Detective Santiago…” his voice took on a brand new tone of gravity - a tone she also recognised as acting. “Shall we head over for lunch?” 

“I’m sorry to come bearing such bad news, Detective Peralta, but people are flooding the hall as per consequence of the fact that lunch is over,” Amy played along taking on a serious tone and posture. 

“Aw, man… Seriously?” he whined childishly, his recent serious persona from seconds before immediatelyforgotten.

“Sorry… _boyfriend_ ,” she smiled sheepishly in an attempt to cheer him up which she had to praise herself, as it obviously worked seeing his face instantly lit up. 

“Whatever… It was worth losing lunch over, _girlfriend_.” 


End file.
